The Blue Bird

Chapter Two: The Food Stop

The sky had begun its slow shift from vibrant blue to a deep shade of twilight, and the first stars started to blink into view like the scattered gems of the night. I had always loved this time of day—the in-between moments when the world felt like it was holding its breath. I glanced out the window of Shania’s car, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over me. Maybe it was the long drive, the quiet hum of the engine beneath us, or maybe it was just the fact that, for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking about hospitals or doctors or my failing lungs.

Shania had been talking non-stop since we left, as usual, but I didn’t mind. Her voice was like background noise, filling the silence that would have otherwise swallowed me whole. She had this energy about her, this chaotic, whirlwind way of existing that both annoyed and amused me. It was hard to explain, but despite the fact that we’d grown up next door to each other, we’d never really been friends. More like acquaintances who happened to orbit the same small world. She was the type of girl who was always moving, always going somewhere, never still for long. I guess that’s why I agreed to ride with her. She had a way of distracting me from my own thoughts.

“It’s not too long now,” Shania said, breaking into my thoughts. “We should be seeing a giant Food Stop sign soon. My parents and I used to stop here all the time. You’ll love it. Best bubblegum milkshake you’ll ever have.”

I felt my stomach growl at the mention of food, realizing I hadn’t eaten since early that morning. “You’re sure they still have that bubblegum milkshake?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent, though I couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto my face.

Shania grinned, her eyes gleaming in the fading light. “Oh, trust me. They do. You’ll see.”

Just as she said, from a distance, I saw the neon lights of the Food Stop flickering in the distance. Blinking red, green, and orange, the sign stood out against the darkening sky like a beacon. As we pulled into the parking lot, the warm glow of the restaurant felt oddly welcoming, and I realized how hungry I really was. It was one of those places that looked like it hadn’t changed in fifty years—chrome-trimmed windows, a big diner sign hanging above the entrance, and the smell of greasy burgers and fries wafting through the air.

We parked and got out of the car. The cool evening breeze tugged at my hair, and I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets as we walked toward the entrance. Shania was already a step ahead of me, practically bouncing with excitement. It was hard not to feel a little lighter being around her, despite everything.

Inside, the place was everything I imagined. Red leather booths, black-and-white checkered floors, and a jukebox in the corner playing some old rock song I didn’t recognize. There were a few families scattered around, mostly travelers like us, and the wait staff bustled about with plates piled high with burgers, fries, and milkshakes in every color.

“Let’s grab a booth,” Shania said, pointing toward one near the window.

I followed her, sliding into the seat opposite her. We picked up the sticky laminated menus, though Shania hardly needed to look. “Two bubblegum milkshakes and the deluxe burgers, please,” she said with a grin to the waitress, who nodded and jotted down the order before heading back to the kitchen.

For a while, we just sat there, the comfortable hum of the diner filling the space between us. I could feel the tension from earlier still lingering in the air, but it was fading. Shania had done that—made me smile, even after the awkward goodbye to the blue bird. I knew she didn’t understand, and maybe she never would, but that was okay. At least she wasn’t making fun of me anymore.

“So, Jay,” Shania said, leaning forward on her elbows. “What are you most nervous about for college? I mean, I know it’s new and all, but it’s gonna be fun. A fresh start, right?”

I shrugged, my fingers tracing patterns on the table. “I don’t know. I guess… I’m worried it’ll just be like high school all over again. You know, not fitting in. Being the odd one out.”

Shania frowned, her playful demeanor shifting to something more serious. “Hey, it won’t be like that. You’re different now. You’ve worked hard to get into this college, Jay. And besides, college is way bigger than high school. There’ll be all kinds of people. You’ll find your group. Trust me.”

I wanted to believe her, but there was always that nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me otherwise. Still, I nodded. “Yeah. I hope you’re right.”

Our food arrived then, two towering burgers and, more importantly, two massive bubblegum milkshakes topped with whipped cream and a cherry. Shania immediately dug in, making an exaggerated sound of satisfaction after the first bite. “Mmm, see? Told you it was good.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. I took a sip of the milkshake, the familiar sweet flavor hitting my tongue, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I actually relaxed. For a little while, I forgot about the pressures of college, the constant worrying about my health, and the ache of saying goodbye to the blue bird. It was just me, Shania, and the bubblegum milkshake. And in that moment, that was enough.

We ate in comfortable silence after that, just enjoying the meal and the dim glow of the diner around us. By the time we finished, the sky outside had turned a deep navy, with stars twinkling brightly overhead. Shania paid the bill (despite my protests), and we walked back to the car, full and content.

Before getting in, she turned to me, her expression softer than usual. “I’m really glad we did this, Jay. I know this road trip was kind of weird and all, but… I’m grateful. For this. For you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

We both climbed back into the car, and as she started the engine, I felt a sense of gratitude settle over me. It wasn’t often that I felt this way—like things might actually be okay. But in that quiet moment, with the stars overhead and the hum of the road beneath us, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, Shania was right.

Maybe college wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I could start over.

And maybe, in time, I would find my place.

As we drove the last leg of the journey toward the college, the darkness outside was no longer suffocating. Instead, it felt like the beginning of something new. Something I hadn’t dared to hope for in a long time.

A future.